


Where I belong

by Fortitude



Category: The Magicians (TV)
Genre: Episode: s04e05 Escape From the Happy Place, Not Beta Read, Spectacular Summer of Shame, TMSSOS
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-30
Updated: 2020-07-30
Packaged: 2021-03-05 18:54:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,341
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25610158
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fortitude/pseuds/Fortitude
Summary: Eliot goes home to Indiana, looking for a door. Or, maybe just some clarity.Also, Charlton's there.
Comments: 1
Kudos: 6
Collections: Eliot Waugh's Spectacular Summer of Shame





	Where I belong

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Eliot Waugh's Spectacular Summer of Shame, with the Dad's Heart Attack prompt. 
> 
> Please keep in mind that almost all I know about the US has been learned through media (I had to actually google where Indiana was, and as a Scandinavian, I really don't understand US health care)

Eliot was leaning heavily against the Cottage door, panting. Charlton had lowered himself gently to sit on the stairs, also needing to catch his breath.

«Well, that was fuck.»

Eliot suppressed a laugh, disguising it as a sigh. «That’s… That’s still not quite right, Charlton.»

Still, it wasn’t a bad description. It was yet another memory on the blackboard to strike out, and yet not a single door had revealed itself.

With another sigh, Eliot walked over and poured himself a drink.

«Now, where shall we go next?» he asked, sitting down on the sofa. Charlton walked over and stood next to the board. Right pointer finger tapping his cheek thoughtfully, he turned his head towards Eliot. Tilts it, contemplating.

«We have seen a lot of friends and lovers, why don’t we try some family next?»

Eliot swallowed thickly. «God, I rather wish I didn’t have to.»

He stood up quickly, already moving hastily towards the door. Turning to see Charlton still standing by the blackboard, he said «Coming? It’s time to go see Daddy dearest.»

* * *

Walking through the Cottage door led them out onto a large yard. Above, the skies were blue, and the air was clear as could be. Sunshine was soaking the yard and the stocky buildings nearby in a bright, yellow light. It was a beautiful, warm day all in all, and Eliot and Charlton were standing in the shade of a big farm house.

«That,» Eliot said, pointing to a man on a stretcher being wheeled towards an ambulance, «is my father. The day he had a heart attack.»

Gesturing vaguely in the other direction, he directed Charlton's gaze towards a young man, clearly a younger Eliot. One hand is running haphazardly through his dark curls, and he’s wearing — now-Eliot looks at it with distaste, a plaid shirt that had been worn by at least one brother prior to him. He was standing half-hidden barely a few steps away, curled slightly in on himself with his arms crossed over his chest. Trying to hide himself away from a stern-looking woman, and group of young men resembling bulkier, slightly older versions of Eliot.

"I don't understand, what's so bad about this memory?» Charlton asked, brows furrowing. After a minute or two of contemplation, he seems to have reached some sort of a conclusion. In the background, the EMTs have gotten Eliot father in the ambulance and closed the doors.

«Did you cause this?»

Eliot nearly laughed at the notion. Not that he’d be opposed to doing it, if he could have.

«Oh, dear God,» Eliot said, with a tight-lipped smile. «No. Naturally occurring heart attack, I’m afraid. Comes with the territory. And the diet of a true midwestern farmer. To be honest, the beer probably didn’t help either,» he explained.

«This is the day I left Indiana behind.»

Ahead of them, most of the immediate drama has died down. The ambulance has left, and the remaining people have gathered in a group.

«Oh,» Charlton said. «I can see leaving home as bad, yes. Very… relatable?»

Eliot snorted out a laugh. «I fed my father to cannibals, I can’t say it was the _leaving_ that was bad, just the timing on their behalf.»

Upon seeing the look of horror on Charlton's face, he quickly added «Well, it was an illusion of him, anyway.»

Charlton looked at him, clearly confused. «The timing?»

Eliot sighed. «Dad just had a heart attack, and they needed me to help them work the... farm, while he was recovering. I guess - I guess it felt like my last chance to get out of there for good. Like if I'd stayed to help then, they would never have let me go. I'd have grown old there, forced to marry one of the girls from high school and farm for the rest of my life. I would've become my father, bitter and drunk. Miserable, at best. But they were still family, despite not acting like it most of the time. They needed me, and I packed up my stuff, got on the first bus to New York and never looked back. It was an obligation they put on me, one I didn't want. And yet, I... A part of me still feels like I abandoned them when they needed me.»

Charlton shook his head to clear his mind, processing this. «I’m still confused. Why is doing what’s best for you a bad thing?»  
«Because I consider it the best decision of my life, and I highly doubt they see it like that. I left when they needed me the most.»

Memory-Eliot in front of them has broken away from the rest of his family, and is slinking closer to the house. Eliot looks after him with a sigh.

«There’s no door out here, but he — well, I — haven’t left yet, so… Let’s go inside, follow me.»

Inside, the house looks exactly how Eliot remembers it, which… frankly, makes sense, it’s his memory after all. Today, out there in the real world, it has probably changed. He doesn’t stop to dwell on it, and with the expertise of someone who grew up in this house, he leads Charlton through a small, _ living room and up a flight of stairs. It looks nearly homely, but Eliot pulls Charlton along without stopping. Down a hallway, he stops in front of an open door. Eliot leans on the door frame, crossing his arms over his chest.

Charlton comes up behind him and peeks in. The room inside is small and sparsely decorated, and the young Eliot is frantically shoving as many of his belongings in the bag lying on his bed.

«Not quite what I imagined,» Charlton says thoughtfully. «I’d imagine it more — embellished, maybe?»

Eliot smiles. «This is what I left behind. A repressed queer boy so obsessed with trying not to stick out that that’s all he did.»

They stand there in silence for a bit, watching as the young boy decides what is important enough to bring with him. They’re watching as he tries to decide between two shirts. Eliot smiles a little at that, recognizing it as something he would still do today.

Charlton steps past him then, pulling him out of his thoughts. Young Eliot hassat down gently on his bed and picked up a framed photo from his bedside table. It’s Eliot with his brothers, taken by their mother at some point. They are all wearing variations of the same outfit, denim pants and plaid shirt, and boots meant for working. Eliot’s the only one that looks uncomfortable. He’s thumbing gently at the frame before putting it back on the table again, carefully.

It’s Eliot who speaks up again, breaking the silence. This time it’s with a slight wobble in his voice, with a hint of sorrow.

«They wanted me to take on more responsibility here, for the farm. Tie me here, for good. Or, at the very least, long enough for me to give up any fanciful dreams of going anywhere else.»

He takes an unsteady breath, seeing Charlton sitting down on the bed next to the bag. Memory-Eliot has finished packing now, struggling to pull the zipper shut.

«They wanted to give me a speck of actual responsibility and I fled. Because I had seen them do that to my brothers in the past, but with the exception of how my brothers — they wanted this. They had no hopes and dreams to end up anywhere else than here. This is what they want. I don’t. So I ran and never looked back. That’s the last time I saw my parents.»

He takes a step back, allowing his younger self space to peek into the hallway to see the coast is clear.

«This is me leaving behind something bad, hoping I’m running towards something better. And, you know, finding it, and then fucking it up.»

He gestures with his head down the hall.

«There’s nothing more here for us to see, no door, so let’s go back before we get attacked.»

**Author's Note:**

> This wasn't what I intended to write, but here it is anyways, idk?
> 
> (Jury’s still out on whether this even answers any kind of prompt)  
> 
> 
> And, as always, I can be found on [Tumblr](https://the-fandom-life-rocks.tumblr.com)


End file.
